


Oneshot Collection

by DeiliaMedlini



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Death, F/M, Ghost Zelda, Grief/Mourning, Oneshot collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Calamity AU, Romance, letting go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27790093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeiliaMedlini/pseuds/DeiliaMedlini
Summary: A collection of LoZ oneshots that I'm doing as practice for... well... writing oneshots!Will put a summary for each one shot at the beginning of the chapter so you know if it's one you want to read, and I'll update the tags as I add new oneshots. Rated M to be safe.Finished: Modern AU, Post Calamity AU
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 40





	1. For Zelda

**Author's Note:**

> Is this called "I'm not Throwing Away my (One)shot(s)" on my computer?? Yes. Yes it is.

_**Summary** : Link has spent his entire life with one woman, but her recent death has him trying to figure out how to move forward when the person he lived for has passed on._

* * *

Link sat at the piano and stared down at the black and white keys. He knew that there were 88 of them: 52 of them were white keys and 36 were shorter black keys. He knew that each key matched a note on the scale. He knew that multiple notes at once formed a chord. He knew where to place his fingers. He’d known this for all his life.

He didn’t know what to _do_ with that life now, though.

Since he was a boy, he’d lived his life for one person. That person had given him more people; children that he’d die for, grandchildren that he’d resolve to live for. But _she_ was gone now. And he wasn’t sure _how_ to go on.

Link knew he had to hit the key for the note to sound. He knew he needed both hands, and he knew that to do that, he had to stop clutching his chest whenever he breathed in or out. It hurt too much, but he knew he had to loosen the fist he had on his shirt. He had to take that breath, no matter how painful.

His finger finally hit the key. It was only the first note: C. He couldn’t bring his finger to the next note, the one adjacent: D.

It was a repeating sequence that he played with his right hand: CDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDA#CDD#.

_She_ always liked to see his hands move wildly across the piano. It was for that reason that he’d tried to avoid chords when he wrote her song. Both of his hands constantly worked their way across the keys, flying up and down the scales, changing the key and the octave just to watch her smile, even if it didn’t sound right together.

She’d lean on his shoulder, and he’d lean into her hands and, she’d watch. Sometimes, she would sit beside him on the bench, one leg pulled up as she leaned against it. But no matter where she was, she was always listening.

Could she hear him now?

He tried again. C.

He set his hands down, and for a moment, he could almost feel her hand ghosting over his, cold as the freezing air of the Hebra mountains, and soft as the snows.

“Play for me,” she’d always say just before taking her seat.

It was her voice in his head that prompted him to move his hands to the keys again. This time, he managed both notes, playing them back and forth without rhythm or timing or speed. Just a back and forth of those two. The effort from even that weighed heavily on him.

_“Link?” a small voice had called out, snapping his head up from the piano. He’d turned around to see his neighbor, and now classmate, running up to him, waving wildly. “You play the piano?”_

_“I can play the Song of Time, and that’s about it.”_

_She scooted into the seat beside him and beamed, a grin that was missing her front baby tooth, though the new one was already visibly coming in. “I got a little harp. We should play together some time!”_

_Link looked around at the classroom as it filled with kids. “We… we are going to play together. This is music class.”_

_“I mean just us, silly!”_

_“Oh. Okay. It has to be my house, though, because that’s the only piano I have.”_

_“Sounds good! Maybe this weekend after the new episode of The Champion’s Ballad comes on?”_

_Link smiled at her. “Sounds good. Maybe we can learn The Song of Storms together?”_

_“I love that song!”_

EFCEFC

He could manage that much.

If she heard him now… gods, he could almost hear her laugh in his ear. She’d be making fun of him for his inability to play. She’d tease him that he’d lost his magic touch. He’d tell her he’s quite competent. She’d scoff.

It took him a few tries to breathe normally again, because though it was in his brain, her laugh _wasn’t_ real anymore. It was an echo that he’d only hear through his own memory, or on tapes he’d kept of them playing together.

His feet lifted off the pedals and took him over to the cardboard box that was under one of the wooden end tables. Wrapped in brown paper were several old cassettes, and he flipped one around to check the label.

Satisfied, he placed it into the player and pressed the button down, waiting for it to roll for a moment.

_“I hope this is blank,”_ he said on the tape.

Link listened silently, his hands clasped over his mouth as her voice came back to him, young and fresh and _alive_.

_“Oh well. It isn’t now!” She laughed._

He missed that most of all. It was the sound of unbridled joy. Contagious. He found himself laughing with her, despite the tears rolling feely down his cheeks.

_“Okay, how do you want to do this?” he asked._

_She hummed. “I think you should take the lead, maestro. I’ve never written a song.”_

_“Believe it or not, neither have I.”_

_“From the horrified look on your face, I do believe it.”_

_There was a noise, a scrape of wood on wood. “Hey!” he laughed again. “I can’t play with you on top of me.”_

_“Wrap your arms around me. You can do it. I believe in you, Link.”_

For a while, it was only the sound of them laughing. There was the faint, light smack of lips against something before she started to laugh again.

_“Link, the tape is running.”_

_“Stop distracting me, then!”_

_“Okay, okay.”_ He remembered that she moved beside him instead.

_He hit several notes before finding one he liked. C. Then, CD. Then again. “What do you think?”_

_“Is that it? That’s my song? Two notes over and over?”_

_“Yep. Told you I’d write you something, and I did.”_

_“You’re the worst!” she laughed. “I want to dance to this at our wedding, so make it nice and long!”_

There was a long pause on the tape, and Link could vividly remember feeling his heart stop and race all at once. _“Our… wedding?”_

_“Yeah. Obviously. You can’t possibly think that we’re not going to spend the rest of our lives together, right? I mean… right?”_

_“Yeah. Right. I just… I didn’t know you wanted that. With me.”_

_She paused this time. “Of course I do. We’ve been friends since we were kids, we’ve been dating for years. I love you. I want to be with you, I always have. Do you?”_

_“Gods, yes.”_

_She let out a breath. “Okay. Then Link, will you marry me?”_

_The scrape of wood and the ensuing thud was Link enthusiastically pushing away from the stool and picking her up._

Link remembered carrying her up the stairs to their room where he said yes to her again and again.

He remembered that they’d come back to the tape recording the sound of nothing, and the next day, they’d recorded more of the piano, of his attempts to write a song worthy of her. A song that he wouldn’t finish for a full year. A song that they danced to at their wedding.

She’d clutched him tight that day. He remembered barely letting go. She was soft, but he melted under her touch. And if anyone ever needed proof that the Goddess existed, they had only to look at her. Not on that day, but every day. He’d always been religious, and he had a feeling it was because he knew what it was like to feel their hand guiding him through the most perfect life.

He’d fall asleep with her and trace the lines of her face to remind himself she was real. He’d wake up beside her, never wishing for another thing besides her health and safety.

Until two years later, when she got pregnant.

Then, he found himself wishing for more than just _her_ health.

They’d both sit by the piano, and she’d rest her eyes, her head on his shoulder, her hand on her stomach. He’d play her song. She said the baby always calmed down when Link played. And it was true when he was born, too.

A fussy baby, one who took after his father, he’d cry and whine and scream until she brought him over to the piano. They’d bought a rocking chair, and she’d sit in it with their son while Link played. From the first C, he’d soften until he laid there, entranced by the melody. Sometimes, he stared wide-eyed. Sometimes, he fell asleep.

When he got older, he and his sister would sit on the floor while Link played. _She_ would lounge on the couch and watch her three loves with wide-eyed adoration.

Link wrote each of the children a song of their own. They both danced to that song at their own weddings while their parents watched on with pride, hands clasped tightly together.

That’s the way they held hands in the hospital as well when the doctors told them the news. She didn’t cry that day, but he did. He’d never really stopped. And they’d sat together in the bed in each others’ arms, talking about their life together.

And then one morning, he woke up realizing that he hadn’t paid special attention to the last time he’d held her tight, because it had been the _last_ time. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made her laugh. He knew he’d done it, but he couldn’t remember the words he’d used.

And he couldn’t remember the last time they sat at the piano together. Had he played her song for her while she rested her head on his shoulder?

Link moved back to the piano, setting his hands down on the keys with more determination this time. But the beginning failed him. Instead, he played a piece from the middle: BDAGABDA.

_Silent Princess flowers: the same she’d carried at their wedding. The same that she’d decorated the table with. They lined her casket._

_He’d needed to stay strong that day. That day, when he thought he was at his weakest, he needed to stay strong. In each arm, he hugged one of his children. He soothed them and reminded them that things would be okay one day. He didn’t believe his own words for a second, but it seemed to calm them down. He rubbed their backs._

_He hadn’t realized that the funeral wasn’t the worst day._

_It was the day after. And the day after that._

_It was the day-to day routine that usually had her in it. The television shows that they used to watch together. The music they’d sing to. The songs he’d played. The meals he ate alone. The worst day was every day while he figured out how to live them all without her._

Six months to the day, and he still wasn’t sure he’d figured out what that meant. He’d lived far more of his life with her in it than without her. He’d lived and breathed for her.

And she was just… gone.

So, to bring her back, if only in his mind, he played CDCDCDCDCD again.

He heard her laugh.

He remembered her tears.

He held her hand.

And he cried onto the keys as the pain in his chest suffocated him with every breath.

But he’d done it.

For the first time since she’d been gone, he played through her song.

As he sat back on the bench, he smiled. He could feel her with him again. And it prompted him to play the song again, and again, and again until his fingers ached. Because he felt alive again for the first time since she’d died. He felt _her_ again.

And the next day, he’d played her song and ate breakfast. And watched his show. He accidently called out to her to jokingly show her a commercial she hated, and he sat and cried harder than before, but once he could breathe again, he went back to the piano and played. And he told her about the commercial.

And each day, the tasks hurt less and less.

The pain never went away. It never stopped hurting. But he had his kids. He had his grandkids. In their smiles, he could see hers. In their eyes, he could see hers glistening back.

Sometimes, it hurt to look at them. Most of the time, it made him believe that she was truly with them all.

One day, while he was at his piano, the oldest of his grandkids came up and sat beside him. Her hair was golden, and her eyes green. She looked the most like _her_. It was uncanny, and Link wondered if even a shred of his genetics had made its way to his grandchild.

“Grandpappy?” she asked, her voice high with youth and curiosity.

“Hmm?”

“What are you playing? You always play that song.”

“I wrote it for your grandma.”

“I wish I knew her more.”

Link let out a deep breath. “She loved you all so much. I can tell you about her.”

“Will you?”

He nodded, and set his hands on the keys, playing softly as he spoke. “We met when we were younger than you, so I knew her my whole life. And she was the kindest woman… besides your mother… there ever was. She was smart. So smart. Like you. And she was kind. And beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful. And I selfishly thought I could capture her essence in a song. But it never did her justice.”

“I think it’s pretty though! It’s kind of sad.”

“It used to be happier.”

“Because you’re still sad?”

He nodded. “I am.”

“But you’re happy too, right?”

He chuckled and gave her a hug. “I am happy too. We can be both.”

She looked at him for a long time before turning to the piano. “Will you teach me to play? I want to play that song.”

“It takes years to learn to play. Do you really want to?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. We can start tomorrow when you all come over.”

“Thanks!” she said, hopping off the bench and skipping away.

But he heard her stop.

“Hey Grandpappy?”

“Yes?”

“What’s her song called?”

Link had to take another deep breath. Because in all the time she’d been gone, he hadn’t needed to say her name. He hadn’t spoken it aloud. He hadn’t been able to. But as he looked at her wide eyes, he realized it was time.

“ _Zelda’s Lullaby.”_


	2. Silent Princess

_This takes place in an alternate universe of post BOTW where Zelda, Link, Rhoam, and all the Champions died to fight the Calamity, but succeeded in sealing Calamity Ganon away._

_**Summary** : Link is a guard for the Prince of Hyrule, forced into a life of monotony day-in and day-out. After months of silent vigil during a time of peace, Link discovers that he's the only one who can see the ghost of the Princess Zelda who died 100 years ago to seal the Calamity and save the world from evil. Though she can't speak, Link and Zelda grow closer, sharing their uniquely solitary lives together. But forever only exists for the dead, and life is too precious to waste._

_Word Count: 6077_

* * *

Link followed behind the Prince of Hyrule, dutiful in his role as one of the Prince’s royal guards. It was one of the highest honors that a soldier in the Kingdom of Hyrule could ask for. Link had been singled out for his skills and requested personally for the Prince.

But Link was a man of action.

During his days back in the training camps, he saw bokoblin raids weekly. He fought moblins and hinoxes. He’d been the only one of the trainees to fight a lynel and win.

So guarding the Prince—as great an honor as it was—was an incredibly boring task.

Each day, Link dreaded the monotony of waking up only to stand outside the Prince’s door and eventually follow him to the dining hall, where the Prince would eat alone or with his parents.

There were no threats to the Prince. There was no need for so many guards. Bokoblins were kept at bay. The Yiga Clan had been eradicated with the destruction of Ganon 100 years prior by the Princess of Hyrule and her Appointed Knight—for whom Link was so named.

Yet here Link was: one of the most promising soldiers in Hyrule since his namesake wandered the world, and here he was watching the Prince of Hyrule eat breakfast.

“You’re relieved,” another royal guard said, tapping Link on his arm.

Link breathed a sigh of relief. After eight hours of doing nothing, his replacement couldn’t have been any more desired. And that guard looked just about as excited as Link felt with every new shift. It was dread on a whole other level.

Link knew what he needed to do.

He needed to kill some bokoblins to let off steam.

He headed for the back door, just outside the servants’ measly dining hall—a fraction of the size of the royal dining hall.

But as he passed one of the sitting areas that the king sometimes used, he saw a young blonde woman resting her head on the back of a chaise lounge chair, a long, ethereal white dress draped over the side. Link wasn’t sure if the near glow around her was a trick of the light, or his own mind. She was as gorgeous as he imagined the Goddesses themselves to be.

But still.

“Miss? You can’t be in here. Do you work here? You should know that by now if you do.”

He strode over to her. She didn’t seem to have heard him, and he had a horrible feeling settle into his stomach. What if she’d snuck into the castle and then died? What if he’d been admiring a corpse?

“Hey, you can’t be here,” he said again as he drew closer.

He thanked the Goddesses when her eyes flung open, though her reaction had him holding his breath again.

The girl let out a gasp, scampering away from Link as though he were Calamity Ganon of a time long since passed. She clutched at her chest and ducked behind the lounge chair before she took off around the corner.

Link cursed and followed her, catching a glimpse of her white dress just a second ahead of him.

But when he looked down the long hallway, she’d vanished without a trace.

There were no doors, no closets or stairs. There were no pillars, or anything for her to duck behind. He turned to the other side of the long hall. The nearest door was too far for her to have reached in time.

“What the…”

He turned back into the room. No, she’d definitely left. And she wasn’t in the halls.

Gods, he needed sleep. Or a social life. He was imagining beautiful women lying around Hyrule Castle. If that didn’t speak volumes about his mental state, he wasn’t sure what else did.

He didn’t hunt bokoblins that day. He went to sleep.

Exhaustion appeared to have been the culprit for his hallucination, for he didn’t see the woman again. Weeks went on in unyielding isolation. He went to his room, he slept, he woke up, he guarded the Prince, he ate on his break, he guarded the Prince, and he went to sleep. All the while, the Prince treated his guards like statues, never interacting with them. And when he did venture out of the castle, an entire revenue of troops all silently accompanied him to keep him safe and scare off any monsters before they could reach him.

Link’s days of monotony slowly went from boring, to tedious, to unbearable. He longed for his old life, one that was unrewarded by royalty. One that allowed him the freedom to interact with the world he existed in. One that allowed him and his fellow guards to converse without being silenced by a harsh look meant to remind him that he was to be a silent presence.

Link was given the patrol route one night, rather than door guard. It was a route all guards coveted. Free roaming the castle, entertaining themselves with ‘new’ views that didn’t include the stone wall that faced the Prince’s door.

He passed several rooms, taking his time to inspect every crevasse before moving on. It wasn’t an inspection borne of diligence or threat necessity, but a desire to linger anywhere but back _there_.

The castle this early in the morning, between the moon’s peak and the sun’s appearance, was deserted. The only companions Link had as he went into each room were the portraits of the royal families of old, each one watching him with their still eyes. Each one of them needing protection far more than the current Prince of Hyrule did.

Link made his way into the royal study. Every servant and guard was permitted to rent out one book from the massive library that was attached to the study, so Link had a mind to take one to entertain himself when no one was looking.

But he noticed a breeze that chilled him to the bone, one that rarely hit him so hard.

He crept around the large bookshelf and saw that the window was wide open, curtains flapping in the wind. His hand flew to his sword, his eyes darted around. He spun to see if there was anyone behind him, but the rest of the room was empty. And then he looked back at the window.

The blonde woman was there again, her hair and dress bouncing about in the breeze. She looked unaffected, leaning against the sill, looking out at the world with a wistful expression.

“You again?” Link balked, not removing his hand from the hilt of his sword. “You can’t be here, _especially_ at night!”

She lazily turned her head to him, but when she saw that his eyes were on hers, she stood up and began to back away from the window.

“No! Not again! Don’t run! We need to have a talk about who you are, and how you’re getting in!”

The girl looked around, backing up into a corner as Link approached her.

Her lips moved, but Link couldn’t hear the words. “What? Speak up!”

He moved closer still, cornering her so she couldn’t run.

The girl breathed out and closed her eyes before fading into the wall.

Link stopped short.

Did she just…

The wall.

Link’s first reaction was to check the window. It was open. That part had been real, and he closed it immediately before turning his attention back to the wall. He felt around the bricks, specifically looking for one that was raised or felt out of place. One that would allowed the wall to turn. He must have missed it turning. The palace was full of hidden pathways. This must be one.

But none of the stones budged, and the wall never turned.

That cold breeze hit him again, and he turned to the window. But it was closed.

“Good Hylia,” he choked out, hand on his weapon again as he scanned the room. And saw something behind the bookcase.

He walked over, slowly, carefully.

She was there again, watching him, eyes wide with surprise as they met his.

“Listen,” he said, lifting his hand off his weapon and raising them both out so she could see he wasn’t going to hurt her. “I just need to know how you keep getting past the other guards. I’ll give you a whole tour of the castle if you just tell me that much. You don’t need to sneak around. I’ll even let you meet the royal family.”

The girl’s lips moved again, but he couldn’t hear her.

“Speak up,” he said, taking another step.

The girl grabbed her dress, hiking it up so she could run again.

“No, no, no! Wait! Gods, wait!”

She hesitated, crossing her arms protectively around herself. But this time, she waited, watching his every move with precise attention.

“How do you keep getting in?”

She didn’t respond, but looked at him with large round eyes, tears filling the brim.

“You’re not in trouble if you just tell me,” he said, watching one of the tears spill and run down her cheek.

Her lips moved again, and this time, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her. He watched her lips carefully. _‘I live here.’_

And he thought _he’d_ been the crazy one when he first saw her.

“You don’t live here. The royal family lives here.”

_‘I am royal.’_

Link nodded and cleared his throat. “Okay, ma’am. I have to ask you to leave. Come with me.”

She held out her hands to stop him. Then, she pointed to Link, motioning for him to follow her.

“No, lady, that’s not how this works,” he said, growing impatient. “It’s time for you to leave.”

He reached out to grab her arm.

And passed right through her.

“What the…?”

He did it again. And still, he passed through her.

He looked at her, utterly confused. “Are you Sheikah? Is this some kind of magic?”

She shook her head slowly, sadly. As though she wished that _were_ the case. Then she motioned for him to follow her once again. And this time, Link found himself wordlessly on her heels as she expertly made her way through the winding maze of hallways that took living in them to perfect the path to each room.

She stopped short in one of the halls and waited for Link to catch up. But when he stood in front of her, she didn’t move.

“What?” he asked. “Why have we—”

His words trailed off as he looked at the portrait she stood in front of. One of the royal family who stood against the Calamity 100 years ago. King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule, who gave his life in the last stand defending Akkala Citadel. And his daughter: Princess Zelda Hyrule, who gave her life to seal away Calamity Ganon forever.

“Oh gods,” Link muttered as he stared at the Princess in the painting.

Identical to the girl before him.

“You look just like her.”

She made a disgruntled face at him before passing her hand through his arm again as a reminder.

He shivered and shook his head. “No. That’s not possible.”

This time, she gave him a patient smile and reached for his hand, letting his rest inside her incorporeal one.

“Oh gods. P-Princess Z-Zelda?”

With a small nod, she watched him process it.

He mostly stared at their hands, his inside of hers. That, to him, was far more convincing proof than the picture.

“Guard! What are you doing?”

Link’s head snapped up at the unfamiliar voice. A senior guard was walking towards him. Link couldn’t find his voice as he stared at Zelda, who just looked on at the exchange with interest, but not surprise.

The guard didn’t even look at her.

“I-I…” Link stared at Zelda before turning back to the guard. His hand was still inside hers, but the man didn’t seem to notice.

“We don’t pay you to admire the artwork her. And especially not to touch it. Put that hand down, and don’t even think about it.”

Link looked back and forth from Zelda to the guard.

“Soldier, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you on patrol?”

Barely managing a nod, Link realized he wasn’t breathing. And the guard must have noticed too.

“You’re pale. You might be sick. Don’t need you spreading anything around the royal rooms. Go back to your quarters and I’ll have you replaced immediately. Go.”

Without another word, Link cast a glance at Zelda and headed down the hall. She followed beside him, an eyebrow raised in smug confidence.

“He couldn’t see you?” Link asked her when they were out of earshot.

She moved in front of him to stop him, and crossed her arms again. _‘Only you’_ she mouthed.

“Are you sure?”

Zelda laughed, soundless. ‘ _Oh, I’m sure._ ’. Then she gestured with her hands. 1. 0. 0.

“One hundred?” he asked as they walked again. But he wasn’t heading to his room. Not when he shared it with four of the other guards. No, he was making his way to the gardens that were fairly unguarded during the night. They were only patrolled during the day, while the perimeter was guarded at night. He needed somewhere that they could talk without him worrying about being caught talking to himself.

But he stopped and sighed. “One hundred years? You’ve been here for that long?”

Zelda nodded.

Link had to run his hands through his hair. “You’ve been in this castle since the Calamity? And no one but me can see you? In that whole time? Why me? Why are you even still here? You’re dead! You sacrificed yourself to seal away Calamity Ganon, right?”

She smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but paused and added her hands to help along with several gestures. ‘ _The Goddesses never liked me.’_

Despite himself, despite the craziness of it all, Link snorted. “Is that a joke?”

Shrugging, she let a wide smile spread on her face, and he could have sworn she was laughing, again, soundless as air on a still day.

“So, you did die back then, right?” Link asked, needing to clarify. Needing answers to the thousands of questions he had.

She nodded.

“Yet you’re here still. Why?”

She shrugged.

“This would be a more engaging conversation if I could hear you talk.”

She laughed.

Link rolled his eyes and continued towards the garden, ducking between the shrubbery and winding his way to the fountain in the center. He sat down, her beside him. “Have you been watching us all these years? ‘Us’ loosely meaning those who’ve lived here in the Castle.”

_‘I have. You’ve seen me before, but I thought it was a mistake.’_

“On the King’s chair?”

Zelda shook her head. _‘Before. You thought I was a servant and apologized for nearly crashing into me. You were in a hurry. And I thought you meant someone else.’_

Link let out a breath and ran his hands through his hair again. “Goddess, I’m talking to a ghost about how many times I’ve seen her in the halls.”

_‘At least you’re polite to ghosts.’_

Link chuckled and closed his eyes, opening them to expect to see air. But Zelda’s face was above him. _‘I’m still here.’_

And from then on, she _was_ there.

They spoke in the garden all night that night, and she’d promised to return to him the next day, to prove that her appearance wasn’t some fever dream. And then she appeared again, seeking him out while he followed the Prince, walking beside her distant cousin as if Link were guarding her instead. She’d glance behind him and wink or smile, knowing exactly what it looked like.

And Link began to smile more.

Her antics amused him far more than he’d realized.

She had very little control over the physical world, but she seemed to be able to rest herself atop physical objects, like she had when she sat beside him on the fountain.

Zelda sat on the arm of the throne, mimicking the King during a long audience that Link had to stand through thanks to the Prince’s presence. She mimed his actions, dramatizing them while he spoke. She mimicked the sour expression of the Prince. She fought to break Link’s careful composure as he watched her instead of the mundane meeting.

She sat at the dinner table, feigning pain and rage when the Prince sat on her, passing straight through her. She popped her head through the table and pretended to be the cucco that the King cut into.

She followed beside Link, skipping her way down the halls with a renewed energy unlike she’d had in a hundred years.

Link enjoyed every second of her company. Though he mostly had to keep himself quiet while in the presence of others, she tagged along often, her company enough to take the edge off the solitary existence he’d been living.

That they’d both been living.

At night, they went out to the garden to speak freely. She’d even warned Link that one of his fellow roommates thought he was having a secret affair and had followed them one day. With Zelda’s warning, Link had stayed quiet, and after that, his fellow guards simply believed that Link enjoyed flowers and shrubbery and solitude. They stopped following him after several attempts that confirmed his lack of a (visible) lady friend.

And together, Link and Zelda laughed at their conclusions.

When Link was on duty, standing alone outside the Prince’s door, Zelda often kept him company. She explained that she’d usually spent most days and nights in the kitchens and servants quarters, where gossip passed more frequently.

Now that she stayed with Link to help him pass the time, she filled him in on that gossip.

He made attempts to learn people’s names so he could place their stories, and with Zelda’s help, he’d developed a special relationship with one of the cooks, who passed him extra leftover food from the exquisite tables he guarded each day. He made sure to check on her grandson, a new recruit in Hyrule Garrison, which occasionally landed him with a snuck cookie that Zelda would stare at longingly.

“I assume you don’t need to eat?” Link had asked one night in the garden. She shook her head. “Sleep?”

Zelda shrugged at that. _‘I can. I don’t need to. It helps pass the time.’_

Link stopped just short of a blue nightshade bush, his eyes lingering on the flower bud. “Does it hurt?”

She let her fingers brush against the flowers, though nothing moved, and there was no indication she’d ever even been close to them. _‘What, when I fell from the Sacred Realm?’_ Silently laughing at her own joke, she stopped when she realized that Link either missed her mouth move, or was too serious about his question to find her answer funny. And she assumed the latter.

_‘For me, yes. Yes, dying hurt a great deal. But mind you, I sacrificed myself. I did not have a natural death. Perhaps that’s why I’m still here.’_

Link nodded and sat down on one of the benches, Zelda moving to sit beside him, wishing she could rest her hand on his knee. She did it anyway, hoping that the thought would soothe him, if not the actual touch.

“So many people died in the Calamity. Are they all ghosts, too?”

_‘I don’t know.’_

“Link? Your Link, I mean.”

At that, Zelda smiled sadly, her fingers tightening together through his leg in a desperate desire to hold him. It was a desire she hadn’t felt in a long time. _‘You are my Link.’_

Link bit his lip and fought back a grin. “That’s not what I meant.”

Moving her hand from Link’s leg to his chest, just over his heart, she nodded to him. _‘You have his spirit. You are him.’_

“So, he’s not a ghost?”

_‘No.’_

He tried to place his hand over hers, forgetting for a moment just what she was. All he met with was the fabric of his own shirt. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, dark thoughts leaving him halfway torn between wishing he’d never met Zelda in this life, and wishing she’d never leave his side. He couldn’t tell which would hurt worse at this point.

~~

Half a year passed, and the Prince relocated his room to another wing of the palace. Each of the Prince’s guards were given quarters of their own, which allowed Link more time with Zelda.

It felt like he’d learned everything about her in these few months. He’d become adept at reading her lips, familiar with the way they moved more so than anyone else he knew. He couldn’t even discern what words his fellow guards whispered to him, but he could understand Zelda’s silent conversations. She’d told him stories of her past, her childhood, her prayers, the Calamity, her parents, her friends, her knight. Her death.

His stories, he felt, weren’t nearly as interesting as hers, but she asked them all the same, and listened just as intently. His training mirrored the Link’s that she knew, which surprised him, but not Zelda. His past was similar: his father, a knight; his destiny, predetermined.

For once, he had someone who saw him. _Really_ saw him and accepted him. And for Zelda, it was much the same. He’d long since reconciled himself with her physical state. He’d mourned for her sake, and for his. The desire to hold her, to touch her, to kiss her even, it grew each day. And each day, he worked to push it down, reminding himself of what never could be outside of his many dreams of her. He wondered if she, as a ghost, had any actual affect on his dreams. But due to the nature of many of them, he was a bit too hesitant to ask.

One morning, he felt a chill far unlike he was used to in the spring air. He stirred and found Zelda sitting beside him, cross legged and waiting for him to awaken. She was never in his room in the mornings.

“Whoa! Zelda?”

She turned to him patiently. _‘You summoned me in the night.’_

“I… I did? How?”

Rolling her eyes like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, she made a face. _‘You called my name.’_

Link couldn’t wipe the red from his face that day, or for several days after that. He even requested a day without her presence when he couldn’t shake her from his mind. But her return the next day had all the feelings rushing back to the surface.

_‘Are you okay?’_ she asked him when they were alone in the hallway outside the Prince’s room.

“I’m fine. Are you?”

_‘I’m dead. Not naïve.’_ She smirked, but it faded quickly, suddenly more serious as she thought about their whole situation. _‘I can leave you alone. Forever, if you need me to. I’ve been alone for 100 years, and I’ve grown to love your company, but I can go without. Link, I’m dead. Don’t ever forget what I cannot offer you.’_

“Don’t. Don’t, Zelda.” He turned away so he couldn’t read her lips anymore, even if she was still speaking.

But she ducked in front of him, following his head wherever he turned until he sighed in resignation.

_‘I’m going to go before it’s too late.’_

“No. Please don’t.”

_‘You know I have to.’_

“You don’t.”

_‘Link…’_

“It’s already too late, Zelda. I’m… I’m falling in love with you, regardless. You leaving now does nothing.”

Zelda smiled, laced with sorrow and pain. _‘I’m so sorry I did this to you. I should have left. I lost you once already and the pain threatened to split me apart. Now, I’m feeling it again.’_

“Zelda,” Link tried, instinctively reaching out to stop her before cursing to himself. “Give me one more day. One night to try to convince you to stay.”

_‘You can try, Link. But it won’t work.’_

So that day, Link trudged through his duties. Zelda followed beside him, giving him his day, though she made no attempt to see his smile. In fact, Link’s heart cracked when, for the first time in months, he could see tears in the corner of her eyes.

It was only when Link was allowed to take his leave for the night that he led Zelda into his room, as they often did. But he locked the door and leaned against it, his eyes desperate and longing.

“Please, don’t go.”

Zelda smiled a bit and crossed her arms. ‘ _All day, and that’s what you came up with?’_

Link chuckled and pushed himself off the door to stand in front of her. “You don’t deserve to spend forever alone. And I’m here, spending _my_ forever alone as well. Let’s spend it together.”

_‘I love you, Link. But sometimes, love isn’t enough.’_

“I’m not in love with your touch, Zelda. Not the sound of your voice. Nothing but you. I know I’ll never kiss you, or hold you, or gods, do all the things I wish I could do with you. I know all this, and I’m still in love with you. So please, don’t go because I can’t feel you or hear you. Only go if that’s what you have to do for _you._ Because you leaving isn’t for _me_.”

_‘Sleep, Link. I can promise you that I’ll be here in the morning when you wake.’_

“Would you sit?” he asked, gesturing to the bed. She did.

He pulled off his guard uniform and changed into comfortable clothes to sleep in. And when he looked over at her, her face was modestly turned away.

Link snorted. “Please, you’re going to tell me that after all these months, you never snuck into the bathhouse once while I wasn’t looking?”

He watched a laugh burst out of her and she turned with a guilty expression and a halfhearted shrug. But she waited for his attention to return to her so she could speak. _‘Don’t make me laugh.’_

Lying down on the bed, he gestured for her to take the spot beside him. “I’ll always make you laugh, if you’ll let me.”

She joined him, her face just inches from his. She was so physically real in nearly every way. His hand longed to reach out and touch her face, though his brain knew it wasn’t worth the disappointment. But he did it anyway, letting his hand fall when it touched nothing but cold air.

_‘I can’t.’_

She rested her hand atop his, enough that they could pretend they were touching.

“How about just a few years, then? I can be without you for that long if I know we’ll be together again.”

‘ _Link…’_

“Forever is a long time to spend alone. For both of us.”

‘ _I’ll sleep on it.’_

Link dropped his arm down so Zelda could move closer. It did nothing by way of touch, but he could still _feel_ her there with him. “You won’t, will you?”

_‘Tomorrow is a new day. And it’s getting too dark for you to see my lips. So sleep tonight, Link.’_

She was right, of course. He’d begun to struggle in the candlelight as his eyes grew wearier. But he was too afraid to shut them, for fear she’d disappear. He felt cold on his forehead, and then his scalp, like she was running a hand through his hair, letting him know that she hadn’t left.

And that was how he fell asleep.

When he woke up, it was to a sight he wished he’d seen every day.

Zelda was curled up beside him, mostly buried in the pillow, her hair wildly around her head. If she were anyone else, he’d have felt her up against his arm, and part of her face would have been against his shoulder. But her eyes opened, and she blinked several times before locking onto his nervous expression.

_‘I’ll stay for now, and gradually leave. It’ll be easier on us both.’_

“Okay. And I’ll work to change your mind that whole time.”

She smiled and conceded to that, knowing full well that her ability to keep her word hadn’t diminished in death. She could hold out longer than Link.

But their trance was broken by a loud knock on the door, and the rattling of the handle. “Link! The Prince is in danger! Move!”

Link turned to Zelda as he quickly pulled his boots on in one swift motion each. “You can’t be hurt by anything, right?”

She simply nodded and followed beside Link as he ran through the hall to the Prince’s chambers. His sword was out, but there was no one there.

Until suddenly, there was.

A strange looking man pulled up his hood and ran out, waving his hand behind him. A lynel appeared in the hallway, swinging a massive sword around wildly.

Link felt the blunt edge catch him, stealing his breath as he was sent flying backwards. The world went black for a moment, and he had to take a second to realize that Zelda was kneeling over him, panic on her face.

He sat up just in time to see the lynel charge again, but this time, he rolled out of the way, hastily finding his footing. The lynel reared back again, and Link was ready to move, but the beast slammed its massive sword down before tearing its arm sideways.

And Link screamed.

He’d been caught by the second swing and fell down to his knees, but not before jamming his sword into the lynel, causing it to shriek in mutual pain.

Zelda was above Link again, and he reached up to grab her arm, instead resting on himself. “Together soon, I guess?” he coughed out. It was a painfully deep wound, but not one that would kill him. It was the lynel who roared in pain, stomping its feet against the rug and ready to either trample him, or stab him that would bring his end.

Zelda shook her head frantically, tears dripping, disappearing before they could fall on him. He could see her mouth moving wildly, but he couldn’t make out more than ‘ _again.’_

Together, they stared at the lynel as its four hooves began to move.

Closer and closer, Link could see its breath coming out of its nose from the cold Zelda brought with her.

Until suddenly, everything was warm.

Death hadn’t hurt nearly as much as Zelda described, he thought dumbly. His first thought as a ghost was…

He glanced at his wound, still throbbing with pain. He coughed. He felt the floor beneath him.

He wasn’t dead. The warmth wasn’t him.

Turning his head, he saw Zelda swathed in light, her hand raised to the sky as a bright beam emerged from her palm. Her hair whipped around wildly in the wind she caused, and the lynel roared one final time before disappearing into dust.

Zelda spun around to Link, her hands shaking as they hovered over him. “I couldn’t lose you again like that, Link!”

Link’s eyes widened. “Zelda?”

“That man, you’ll need to find out who that wizard is! Who has the power to summon a—”

“Zelda!” Link balked, grabbing her arms. And he _could_ grab her arms.

They both stared in shock as the unfamiliar feeling of Link’s hands on her arms radiated throughout their bodies.

“I can feel you,” she breathed.

“I can hear you.”

“Why is that?”

Link chuckled and reached up to cup her face. “You have an accent?”

“A royal dialect, if you please,” she laughed, grabbing his hands and pressing them into her face.

He choked on the sound of her laugh, feeling he could drown in the noise he’d never heard.

“I feel strange,” Zelda admitted, her joy turning to cold fear. “Oh gods, Link! I’m dying.”

“What? You’re not alive.”

She shook her head, grabbing him tighter. “I didn’t save you the first time. In the Calamity. You died because of me. This time, I saved you. I can move on now.”

“’Move on?’ What? Zelda… what’s happening?”

“I can leave. I can be at peace.” She let out a nervous chuckle, but then she looked at Link, felt his hands on her. Everything she’d wished for. “Or I could stay. I think… I think I could keep this feeling. But I think… I think I’d be stuck here as I was.”

“How do you know this?”

“It’s a feeling. I just know. And I can hear the Goddesses calling me. I have to decide now.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, and both spoke at once.

“—I have to stay.”

“—You have to go.”

Zelda stared incredulously at Link. “Go?”

“You’ll be stuck here, like you were. This is your chance. You won’t get another.”

“Now we can have a life together, Link. It can be you and me. We can run away and live together in a small town, in a cottage or a cabin. We can have everything we wanted.”

“No. You’ll be stuck,” Link countered, though he wasted no opportunity to run his hands all along her skin, trying to commit everything to memory as fast as he could.

“Link!”

“You loved me enough to leave me when you thought it would ruin my life to be with you. And I love you enough to let you go when being with me will ruin your death. Take this.”

“I can be just as stubborn as you were, you know.”

Link chuckled and nodded, resting his forehead against hers. “Will we be able to find each other in the next life?”

“Theoretically, yes, but—”

“Then what’s a few more years? I can be without you for that long if I know we’ll be together again. You staying here for the rest of this life of mine means we’ll never have forever. If you go, we can find each other in every life.”

She bit her lip at his repeated words. “I’ll find you. No matter what, Link, I’ll find you again.”

“Me too, Zelda,” he promised, already feeling her touch fade to nothing again.

He hastily pressed a desperate kiss to her lips, one that she eagerly returned. Her hands threaded through his hair, raking her nails along his skull, feeling him shudder from her attentions. Likewise, he let his fingers alternate between a light brush over her skin, and frantic nonsense, running the same paths again and again. One hand was against her neck, though he didn’t feel the thrumming pulse he expected. The thought didn’t last as he traced her throat and ran his fingers over her ears just in time for him to stop feeling them.

She grabbed him tighter, but that too faded until they were left feeling nothing but air.

“Link! I lo—”

Link croaked out a pained sob as her voice disappeared, and the rest of her sentence was lost to silence. And despite knowing what it would have been, it stung far worse than he expected.

She no longer looked human before him. The light she’d emitted before was returning, and this time, it was engulfing her, fading out her edges, her fingers, her hands, her legs, her hair.

The last thing he saw was her mouth, tipping up into a final, peaceful smile.

Link sighed and shook his head, leaning back into the wall, waiting for help to come for him. 

Finally, he saw a young blonde servant run into the hall, skidding beside him. 

And his eyes widened at the familiar face; though not exact, he knew that face anywhere. 

“Zelda?” 

Her head shot up as her hands hovered over his wound. “I’m sorry, have we met? I don’t… I don’t recognize you, sir. Just stay calm though, you’re bleeding a fair bit.”

That voice.

Link gasped and grabbed her hands, needing to know if she was really there or a stress-induced imagining of her. But he could feel her, and he could feel her pulse in her wrist. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled. Goddess, it was that same smile. One that was meant to calm him, but did nothing of the sort in that moment. But her words… her words soothed him more than any medicine ever would:

“What do you mean what am I doing here? I found you.”


End file.
